


The Game Is On

by anyalevsyou



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Sherlock, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding Crops, Shameless Smut, Smut, Smutty, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyalevsyou/pseuds/anyalevsyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John walks into the flat one day angry and upset, and Sherlock can't help himself.</p>
<p>Post-reichenbach, but I did my best to make it as non-angsty as possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game Is On

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my first smut fic, however, it is the first the one I'm posting on the internet, so please leave comments and feedback and please be nice! :)  
> Also, I'm from the US, so some of the British might not be spot-on, but I'll do my best. If you notice something please leave a comment so I can fix it!

John stomped into the flat, clenching his fists. He muttered under his breath furiously. He slammed the door shut, closing his eyes and breathing the comforting smell of home-which at that moment smelled like an odd mix of lavender and sulfur. Probably the result of Mrs. Hudson trying to be nice, and Sherlock doing one of his ridiculous experiments.

"Sherlock? I'm home," John called, going to the kitchen to make himself some tea. Tea would help him forget about all the infuriating people he had to deal with during the day. Somebody had made an entire appointment, pretending to be sick only to badger him with questions about Sherlock and how he came back, and their relationship. Really! That was valuable time that could be spent saving somebody else's life! John felt the anger rise in him again as his hands began to shake.

"You're upset," commented Sherlock as he walked into the room.

"Yes, great deduction, Sherlock," John growled. He moved to the cupboard to get some biscuits to find that the entire cabinet had been emptied and the food had been replaced with some sort of gel. "Christ, Sherlock!" John yelled, turning to the detective who was currently adding sugar to the tea that John had made for himself. John closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to steady himself. Sherlock looked up innocently from the tea.

"What, John? Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there bloody is a problem, you arrogant arse," John replied, his voice raising. "I come home in a bad mood, and all I want to do is make myself some tea and biscuits and the cabinet with the biscuits is covered in some sort of shite, you are drinking my tea, the flat smells like bloody rotten eggs-"

"John, what did you do?!" Sherlock exclaimed, grabbing John's hand. John stopped his rant as he looked at rapidly swelling hand, which he had jabbed into the strange gel. Just one more thing that was going wrong today. "Rinse it, John, before it gets too bad." John stuck his hand under the sink, inhaling to start yelling again.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock! How many times do I have to tell you, no experiments in the kitchen! This is why! First those absolutely absurd people at the surgery, and I just want to go home and relax, and instead I have to take care of you! Is it really that difficult to keep your experiments-"

Sherlock grabbed John's head and pressed his lips roughly against the other man's. For a few moments John was too startled to do anything besides stand there, however, he quickly came to his senses.

"Sherlock! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" he said, pulling back. Sherlock looked slightly embarrassed, but didn't apologize.

"Oh, John, everybody knows that you've been wanting that from day one. When you started to yell like that, I couldn't help myself. You have no idea how sexy you look when you get angry. Its been driving me mad." Sherlock spoke in a very matter-of-fact voice, and John found himself holding back a giggle. Of course he knew that John had been wanting him. He was Sherlock. You couldn't hide anything from him.

"You arrogant arse," John said, grinning. He pulled Sherlock back to him, pressing himself against the taller man. Sherlock smirked and lowered his lips back to John's. Despite the nickname given to him by Irene Adler, when Sherlock ran his tongue across John's lower lip and nipped at it lightly with his teeth, John felt breathless and could tell that this was not the first time Sherlock was doing this. John took Sherlock's lower lip and sucked on it, earning himself a delicious, breathy moan. John felt heat pooling in the pit of his stomach just as he felt Sherlock's erection pressing into his stomach. He reached and palmed Sherlock. Sherlock moaned again, rutting against John's skilled hand.

"Bedroom, Sherlock. Now," John growled into the taller man's ear before biting down on it. Sherlock gasped, and grabbed John's hand, pulling him to Sherlock's room.

"I'm not going to make up the stairs," he said. John smirked.

Sherlock practically kicked the door of his room open and turned to John, but the ex-military man had him pinned on his bed in seconds. Sherlock looked up at John with wide-blown pupils, hips thrusting up into John's. John lowered his head to Sherlock's neck and placed several open-mouthed kissed there. Sherlock turned his head to allow him easier access, but John sat up, straddling the detective's thin hips. Sherlock whined, but John quickly shushed him by almost ripping Sherlock's silk shirt off and beginning to suck on his thin, muscular chest.

"God, Sherlock you're are so beautiful," John murmured against his warm, porcelain skin. He sucked and bit at Sherlock's neck until he had made a sizable bruise there. "Tomorrow, you are not going to lift the collar of your coat, and you are not going to wear your scarf. You going to show everybody whose you are and how proud you are of it. You are mine."

"Yes, John," Sherlock almost whined. "Yes, I am yours. All yours. Please, please."

"Please what, Sherlock?"

"Please, I want you inside of me.  _Please_." John smirked, again, finding that he rather liked hearing Sherlock beg.

"Oh, I don't know. You were being very bad today. I think you deserve to be punished." John bit down on Sherlock's neck, causing another moan to escape the taller man's lips.

"What--What do you mean?" Sherlock asked breathlessly.

"Go and get your riding crop." John said. Sherlock gasped, and sprang up almost running to the couch where he had left it after some experiment. While he was waiting, palmed himself through the fabric of his jeans, trying to calm himself. He didn't want to come too early. "Strip, then stand against the wall." John ordered. Sherlock did so with no hesitation, his cock hanging thick and fully erected between his legs. John picked up the dropped riding crop and strode over to Sherlock, who was shaking slightly with arousal. He used the crop to stroke Sherlock's muscular back and round, plump arse. God, John loved that arse.

"Count for me. We will do seven." John said, and with no more warning, snapped his wrist, hearing the smack of the crop on the skin just below Sherlock's arse. The taller man moaned, rutting against the air in a futile attempt to find friction for his leaking, throbbing cock.

"One," he said somewhat shakily. Again, John snapped his wrist, a little harder this time. He could already see the welts forming on the detective's fair skin. His own cock ached in response. 

"Two." Sherlock's fingers scrabbled against the wall fruitlessly.

"Three," he said, but it came out in a high-pitched whine.

"Ssh, you're a good boy," said John comfortingly, stroking the crop down is back and tickling his balls. Sherlock threw his head back and shut his eyes, his thick cock leaking precome onto the floor of his room.

"Four."

"Oh, you're making such a mess, aren't you, Sherlock? God, if only you could see how beautiful you look right now," John said, palming himself at the sight, at angle where he knew Sherlock could see him.

"Five," Sherlock moaned.

"Only two more. You're almost done."

"Six."

"God, you won't be able to sit tomorrow."

"Seven," Sherlock said.

"Good boy, Sherlock. You look so beautiful like that. " John brought the riding crop up to Sherlock's lips who obediently opened his mouth and sucked on the leather triangle, his eyes dark and smoldering. John's cock throbbed at the sight

"John, please," Sherlock whimpered.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Please, I want--I want you. Can I--may I suck your cock?" John's cock twitched at the words. Oh, yes, John would be alright with that.

"Get on your knees," he ordered. Sherlock eagerly dropped to the floor as John undid his fly.

"Please, John, can I?" Sherlock looked at John hopefully and the doctor dropped his hands, which were replaced by Sherlock's long, pale fingers. Once John's trousers were pulled down, Sherlock began sucking his cock through his pants. The wet heat of his mouth causing John to moan. For a few seconds, Sherlock simply sucked on the head of John's cock through the material of his pants until he suddenly stripped John of those. He licked the length of John's cock before wrapping his cupid-bow lips around his balls, hanging heavy with arousal. He rolled them around in his mouth, listening to John moan above him. He began to suck on the head of John's cock, bobbing his head, and with each bob of his head, he took more of John's cock into his mouth. Finally, John felt warm heat surrounding him completely and looked down to see he was buried balls-deep in Sherlock's mouth. John closed his eyes, knowing he would come if he looked. He knotted his hands in Sherlock's dark curls, pulling hard. He couldn't help but thrust into the detectives mouth. Sherlock hummed his approval, so John did it again and again, fucking his mouth until he pulled out completely.

"I'm close. I'm about to come," he said. "On the bed, now." Sherlock did as he was ordered, scrambling onto the bed as fast as he could. John could see a wet spot on the carpet where Sherlock had leaked precome. "You've, been such a good boy," said John, "you deserve to be rewarded. What do you want, Sherlock?"

"Please, John. I want you inside of me. Lube is in the bedside table." Sherlock was squirming with want, twisting his hands in the sheets to keep from touching himself. John reached to the bedside table to get the lube. He applied it to his fingers and ran a finger around the tight ring of muscle. Sherlock gasped, thrusting into the air. John finally pushed a finger in. Both men gasped. Sherlock, at the sudden intrusion, and John at the tight, wet heat that engulfed his finger. Smirking, John crooked his fingers, glad that his medical knowledge allowed him to find the other man's prostate with ease. He finished stretching him quickly, excited as he was to be inside of Sherlock. He rubbed lube onto his cock and eagerly placed the head at Sherlock's entrance. With a moan, he thrust into the detective's wet heat. Sherlock arched up, scrabbling his hands on the sheets.

"John, fuck, you're so big," he moaned. He felt so full. So full of  _John_. The shorter man pulled out before thrusting back in, hard, hitting Sherlock's prostate exactly. Sherlock couldn't quite hold back a yell.

"Sherlock, you're so fucking tight--you feel so good," John said, thrusting balls-deep again and again, hitting Sherlock's prostate every time. Fuck, Sherlock, I'm close. I'm about to come." Just as he said the words, Sherlock felt John come deep inside of him. He gave a shout, wanting to come with him, but unsure if he was allowed to. Suddenly, he felt John grab his aching, throbbing, leaking cock and give a long tug. "Come for me, Sherlock," he growled in his ear before biting down on it and giving the detective's cock another long tug. As soon as the words left John's mouth, Sherlock saw white as he yelled, having the best orgasm he had probably ever had. He yelled out John's name multiple times, both because he couldn't help himself and because he knew John would love it.

"John, that was fantastic," said Sherlock, taking a deep breath. John, now laying across Sherlock's chest, having pulled his limp cock out of Sherlock, hummed in agreement. Sherlock let his eyes drift shut, wrapping his arms around the shorter man, not caring that both of them were covered in each other's come. John did the same, loving the feeling of being close to Sherlock.

"So what now?" John asked, his eyes closed, seconds away from sleep.

"Now, the game is on."

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback, and follow me on tumblr at anyalevsyou.tumblr.com!
> 
> Until next time, my lovelies!


End file.
